Potions
by The Evil Corkyapine
Summary: Blaise had never understood why he did so poorly in Potions. Blaise/Harry  Blarry? Haise?


Potions had always been Blaise's worst subject. This had always confused him. He liked potions. His homework for the subject was always satisfactory. He understood the theory; why certain ingredients worked together to create certain things, and how some could be deadly. So why did he keep messing up in class?

He decided the best thing to do would be to get tutored. But when Draco tested his Dreamless Sleep potion in their first session, he was told it wasn't bad, and coming from Draco, that was high praise. How could it be that with Draco, his potions were passable, but in class they were disasters? Blaise had no idea, so he went to consult another friend.

Pansy suggested stage fright. Blaise just snorted. As if he, a Zabini, could ever get a little nervous, after the act he put on for all of his mother's husbands. He was one of the most confident people he knew. Why had he even asked Pansy anyway? She was hardly the most knowledgeable person he could ask. Of course she wouldn't have been any help. She only cared about gossip, anyway.

So he asked Theo. Another mistake. He just shrugged and asked if they could make out. Theodore Nott wasn't gay, not even slightly. But he _was_ a self-diagnosed nymphomaniac, and therefore took whatever he could get. Or in this case, _tried_ to take what he _thought _he could get. He just didn't seem to get that just because Blaise hadn't even been on a date in the past year, he _wasn't_ desperate. Blaise was actually surprised that he had waited this long for him to ask. Theo's recent girlfriend had dumped him over a week ago. He usually couldn't last for much longer than a few days.  
Still, that didn't change anything. Blaise just rolled his eyes, informed Theo that a mudblood would be a much easier and more female target, and left, leaving a laughing Theo behind him.

After he had asked all of the Slytherins that could have given him an at least decent answer (so obviously not Crabbe or Goyle), he traipsed into the library. It had to be a curse, he decided. Something that magic could fix. However, after about an hour, he had found nothing that could be responsible for his potions catastrophes.

"I don't get it! How can I be so bad at potions?" He fumed at no one in particular. In the library there were only a few Hufflepuff first years, a mudblood reading a book, and the bat of a librarian, the last of which shot him an evil glare for disturbing her precious quiet

"Well, I suppose if you if you stopped staring at Harry the entire lesson, you would probably do a bit better." Replied the mudblood, eyes not leaving her book.

"Wha-"

"You heard me." She flashed him a brief smile, picked up her books, and stood up. "If you like him, just ask him out. Only, don't tell anyone I said anything; the Gryffindoors have a bet going on you two, and I want to win. So, before Saturday, if you could." She smirked, and then left the library, leaving Blaise astonished, and just slightly amused.

* * *

It was Friday, and once again he was doing hopelessly in potions. He was starting to realise just how much time he spent sneaking glances at Gryffindor's Golden Boy. On his eighth time that lesson (He had been keeping count), he caught the mudblood's eye. She scowled at him. She had been doing that a lot in the past two days, and every time, Blaise would just raise an eyebrow. _Did she really think that he would ask Potter out on a date? _He had thought_._ He hated Potter.

On that Friday however, he just smirked back at her. He had come to terms with his well-hidden obsession with Potter, and all thanks to her. So he thought he should at least do something to repay her.

"Oi Potter!" He yelled as soon as Snape had left the room, taking Longbottom to get a cure for his latest failure from his office. Harry looked up, in the middle of pouring something into his cauldron, which the mudblood hastily took from his hands.

"Go out with me?" At that, the entire classroom stopped what they were doing and stared at Blaise as if he had declared his undying love for McGonagall. Harry blinked a few times, but didn't seem to be in a hurry to reply.

"Yeah right, Zabini." The Weasel said, laughing. "Like Harry Potter would go out with _you_." Harry laughed.

"Yeah." He said. "If you ask me out like that, of course I won't go out with you. I _have_ standards."

Blaine froze for a split second, before grinning, and saying "All right then Potter, I get it." He quietly went back to work.

* * *

All through that day, Potter stole glances at Blaise, who did all he could not to look back. He was really quite enjoying all the attention, truthfully. That coupled with the rumours of what had happened in Potions going around made his day.

In the Great Hall at dinner that night, most of the school darted glances at him, some people even all-out staring. This would be an amazingly perfect and romantic time to ask Harry out. It was what everyone was expecting him to do. Which was exactly why, at the end of dinner, Blaise hadn't spoken.

In fact, it wasn't until far past curfew that Blaise set out to begin his adventure. He knew from conversations between the mudblood and Weasel (who were surprisingly easy to eavesdrop on), that Harry went out for late night walks by himself, so that was what he was sorely hoping him to be doing then. He also knew that Harry had an invisibility cloak. Honestly, it was as though they wanted everyone to know the way the two were going on about it. Either way, it was a huge Help to Blaise for this excursion. He learnt a lot from them while he was busy not-looking at Harry all day. For instance, Harry did not like so much public attention, hence the not-asking-him-out-at-dinner.

Due to the invisibility cloak problem, Blaise just settled himself by the Gryffindor common room entrance (all good Slytherins knew where that was), and waited.

He did not have to wait long. After only about 10 minutes, the door slid open, and no one came out.

"Potter."

Silence.

"I know you're there Potter."

More silence. But Blaise spotted something. A sliver of a shoe was moving quietly down one of the passageways.

"So… Potter." He said, not taking his eyes off the small bit of shoe that was visible. "You said you wouldn't go out with me if I asked you out like that. So I'm trying again."

The shoe segment stopped. Blaise stopped.

"I dance." Blaise said, taking a deep breath, and then started walking again, not bothering to look for the shoe. He knew either Harry was following him, or he had no chance with him. "In case you were interested. That's what people do, isn't it? Share useless bits of information with each other, in an effort to start some form of bond. So, I dance. Classical, of course. In my house, there was no way you couldn't learn classical. But also some other styles. And some types of dance that you can't learn, that you have to know."

There was still no reply, but Blaise continued on, undeterred.

"My mother has had 16 husbands. Dad was her 3rd. I have stopped trying to learn their names now. They die in a 'mysterious accident' too quickly, so I needn't bother. I prefer winter, summer seems too happy. Triangles are my least favourite shape. I was thinking of charming my hair green last year. My first friend was our house elf. I'm allergic to bees. I have never broken a bone in my life. I-"

"I never learnt to dance." Said a voice from behind him. Blaise looked around. Harry was standing, cloak in hand, with an odd expression on his face.

"It's easy, I'll teach you." Blaise smiled, and took Harry's hand.

Thirty minutes later, and Harry had learnt many basic steps from a multitude of different styles. They grinned at each other, and Blaise didn't let go of Harry's hand. He didn't seem to mind.

They sat by the lake after that, silently watching the night go by, lost in thoughts, lost in the moment, and lost in the darkness of the night. But still holding hands, so not really that lost at all.

"I never answered you, not really." Harry said suddenly.

"Huh?" Blaise asked, smiling slightly.

"In Potions today. I didn't answer you."

A few minutes passed. "…You _going_ to answer?

Harry grinned. "I'll go out with you."

Blaise smiled. They stayed that way for another hour.

The next morning at breakfast, Blaise heard a shriek.

"He WHAT! Harry, when?"

All of the occupants of the Great Hall turned their heads to the Gryffindor table.

Harry grinned, looked over at Blaise, then yelled "We're talking about you!"

"I figured." He yelled back. "And Granger, it was 11:50. Ten 'till twelve. On Friday. The day I asked Potter out."

Granger smiled, and discretely mouthed 'thank you'. Some other members of the Gryffindor table were scowling, having presumably bet on a later date.

"But mate," Said the Weasel. "You didn't… agree, did you?"

"You kidding Ron? He taught me to dance. Of course I agreed!" And with that, he continued with his breakfast as if there had been no disturbance. Blaise was going to have hell to pay later from the Slytherins, but for that moment, it was worth it. He had Harry Potter. He was dating the Golden Boy.

* * *

**A/N: So even though Drarry is my OTP, this just materialised in my head. I'm still not too happy with this fic, but there were a few bits that I ****particularly ****liked. So I don't know, tell me what you think.**


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